At a turn in the path Artemisia placed her hand upon his arm and checked him. The silvery voices of children came from a sunlit glade among the shrubbery. They saw a boy of eleven years, clad in a short white tunic that left his arms and legs free, shooting with blunt arrows at a target that hung against a tree. Two little girls stood watching him, and after each shot they ran with eager laughter to find the arrow and fetch it back to him. Their fair hair gleamed in the sun. Artemisia's eyes sought those of her husband, and a smile of mother love transfigured her face.
"I am almost afraid to be so happy," she murmured.
Clearchus laughed. "You need not fear, my heart," he replied. "Do not the Gods owe us something? They are generous."
They heard a step on the gravel behind them, and Leonidas advanced with a smile and hands outstretched. He had changed little, excepting that a few gray hairs appeared at his temples and the lines of his face had deepened.
"Welcome, comrade!" Clearchus cried, running forward to meet him. "Whence come you? What news?"
"I come from the council in Syria," Leonidas answered, "and as for news, there has been another division of the world."
"And Ptolemy?" Clearchus asked anxiously.
"He retains Egypt," the Spartan said. "Antipater is regent, with Macedonia and all Greece; Seleucus gets the satrapy of Babylon; and Antigonus, Susiana, besides what he had."
"I hope we shall have peace at last," Artemisia said, glancing toward the children.
"We shall have peace here, at all events," Leonidas said grimly. "None of the generals is desirous of sharing the fate of Perdiccas."